Angel
by BE-A-TLE
Summary: A miserable little piece from a miserable mind


Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were. Never will be.  
  
Author Notes: Fair warning......this story is sad, it is disturbing, and it involves character death. If it bothers you, then don't read it. With that said, I had often wondered about Jack, if life wasn't as good as he tried to make it out to be. Now maybe I read to much into things, but he didn't seem happy. Sean made his unhappiness well known, but Jack was very subtle, and like I said, It could have just been me. However, I toyed with the idea and this is what I came up with. You can blame this being posted on Julie. Happy now Julie? There's your stinkin' shout out. It wouldn't format the way it was suppose to be cause it sucks.   
  
Angel  
  
Spend all your time waiting  
for that second chance  
for a break that would make it okay  
there's always one reason  
to feel not good enough  
and it's hard at the end of the day  
***************************************************************  
  
Jack Hunter was dead. And no amount of wishful thinking, tears, or anger was going to bring him back. No one had ever expected it, not that anyone ever does. I know I certainly didn't. At first I was devastated, I mean the best friend I had ever had had died, and it was no accident. Jack killed himself. I close my eyes and I still see him the way I found him. The bathtub over flowed with bright red blood, his blood. I remembering screaming, and grabbing a towel to try and stop the bleeding, but there was no blood left to stop. How long I screamed, I don't know, the police, the ambulance, the questions I couldn't answer. They haunt my memory and scare away my sleep. I never full mended from that devastation. The others went on through the stages, but part of me always remained in devastation. I went through the other stages, slowly, and painfully, but my heart always remained in devastation. He was gone. Not coming back, ever, and I can't help but wonder what would make him do this. The suicide note had ripped my heart to shreds, as I had never known he'd felt the way he had. He was good at hiding it. Or maybe I was just not a good enough friend to notice. His younger brother Sean, had lingered in anger, often cursing his brother for leaving him like that. After their dad died, Sean pushed Jack away repeatedly, and Jack did what he could to stay out of his way while he grieved. All the while, very few bothered to try and understand why Jack grieved. That was mentioned in that note. In his note there was a little thing for each of us, and not one person was dry eyed when the note was done being read. Knowing I would find no sleep this night, I stumble from bed and find my jacket, quickly heading out my front door.  
  
***************************************************************  
I need some distraction  
oh beautiful release  
memory seeps from my veins  
let me be empty  
and weightless and maybe  
I'll find some peace tonight  
***************************************************************  
  
How I wound up at the cemetery I won't know. He had been buried next to his dad, as Sean figured he'd want it that way. The funeral, his mom and step dad had spared no expense, and I couldn't help but wonder if Jack would have wanted it that way. My parents and Mr. Feeny came, to which I must admit I was slightly surprised. My parents never gave an indication either way if they liked Jack, and Mr. Feeny didn't know him to well. Of course, parents are all the same really. My mom cried, as she saw it could have easily been me or Cory, or even Morgan. My dad sniffled, refusing to let tears fall, and kept a reassuring arm around my mother. Mr. Feeny sat between me and Cory. He looked so old, and defeated, like he somehow failed. I remember very little else. I do however remember one thing distinctly, Sean and I were the last to leave the gravesite. And Sean left before I could. All I could think of was Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Over and over until finally, I had no choice but to turn and leave. The headstone is new, so it stands out in contrast to the older ones near by. I gently allow myself to go to my knee's.  
  
"Hiya Jack." I murmur, vaguely wondering why I'm talking to a piece of granite. "I miss ya buddy." I could think of no more to say, so I simply sat.  
  
***************************************************************  
in the arms of an angel  
fly away from here  
from this dark cold hotel room  
and the endlessness that you fear  
*****************************************************************  
  
Sean had made it perfectly clear he was not going to go through Jack's belongings. I took on that burden myself, if Sean was going to be angry, that was his right, but Jack deserved better. I entered the room, and was almost overpowered, by everything. Jack always was the neat freak. I set down the box I held in my arms and moved to the nightstand first. There was a collection of framed photographs there, and I could feel my heart clench as my eyes swept over the. Pictures of me, Cory, Topanga, Angela, Sean, and Rachel in various places and situations grinned back at me. He was very rarely in a photo, usually the photographer, but one particular picture caught my attention. A picture Angela had taken, he and I are standing next to each other smiling, around the time we first met I suppose. Next to it was a picture of Sean, himself, and his dad. I closed my eyes remembering how the two Hunters suffered through that loss. Sean had made it painfully obvious he was in pain, but Jack, was more subtle. I saw him in the arms for Rachel and my heart broke. Then I saw something I won't soon forget. That night, all the hurt I harbored at the two of them, dissolved in one moment. Jack sat on the couch, he didn't know I was behind him, and he didn't know I saw him cry. I had quickly pulled back into my room, and tried to block out the picture. I'd moved out shortly after. When they broke up, I returned to live with Jack, and it even surprised me, that I had no interest in going after Rachel anymore. I had my best friend back, and that's all I cared about. There was many shuffles in who was living where, but at the end, Sean, Jack, and I, the original three, were back in the apartment. I swept my arms across the nightstand, sending the pictures crashing into the box. I opened the drawer that was in the nightstand, and a stark white envelope stood out against the dark grain wood. I lifted it, and found, with great surprise, it was addressed to me. I instantly put it in my pocket, and continued trying to sort out the belongings.  
  
*****************************************************************  
you are pulled from the wreckage  
of your silent reverie  
you're in the arms of the angel  
may you find some comfort there  
******************************************************************  
  
With shaking hands I stared at the letter. I was afraid of what I would find. Why had Jack written me a letter? And more importantly, why couldn't I bring myself to open it? I sat on the couch, the red couch I distinctly remember Jack having there when I first met him. The letter I kept turning over in my hands. I couldn't bring myself to open it, couldn't bring myself to look away. I'm not sure how long I sat there, just staring at the stupid thing. All it would take is for me to slid my finger under the flap and pull, then I could find out what he has to say, but I can't. I suppose its the fear gnawing at me. It could be something worse than what's already happened. Finally giving myself a mental slap, I open the letter and pull out the sheet of notebook paper inside. I can see Jack's neat handwriting and have to force my eyes and brain to cooperate to comprehend the words.  
  
Eric,  
  
If your reading this, then I'm dead. First, I feel I should apologize to you. I'm sorry I couldn't tough it out, and I'm even more sorry that your the one who finds this letter. If I'm right, which I bet I am, your going through my belongings, and not Sean. That's alright though, because, it's better this way I guess.  
  
Please, don't be upset that I'm gone. It'll be better for all concerned this way. Sean was wrong when he said I was okay. He was very wrong. I haven't been okay in a long time. I guess I never really was okay. When Chet died....I lost the only real chance I had to be okay, and I couldn't talk to anyone about that. I didn't want to bother you with my feelings, and Sean needed me to stay out of his way. I contended with myself, and I lost.  
  
I'm sorry, I really, truly, am. I just can't be strong like everyone else. I've tried to be, honestly, I have, but I'm not like you, or Sean, or anyone else. I know this hurts you, and I hate myself more for doing it to you. To forgive me is something I cannot even request to do, so if you'll only find it you to check on Sean now and again, I'd be more than grateful.  
  
Your friendship kept me going on longer than I had expected. You really are the best friend I ever had, and I hope you never think or thought differently. What I did has nothing to do with you or Sean, or anyone else. I know your spirit will overcome, and I'll soon be but a memory.   
  
It's better this way.  
Jack.  
  
Tears flooded my eyes almost immediately. What did he mean he couldn't talk to anyone after his dad died? He could have talked to me, I would have listened to him. He didn't want to bother me? I wracked my mind to try and figure out what I did to make him not what to come to me with a problem. I thought he'd gotten over it....but I guess I never took the time to find out. I saw him with Rachel, and I was hurt and left. I didn't give that a second thought. He had just resumed his life. I should have seen through the facade, but I did not. I gently fold the letter and slide it into my pocket before I stand, rake my hand across my eyes, and leave the apartment.  
  
******************************************************************  
so tired of the straight line  
and everywhere you turn  
there's vultures and thieves at your back  
and the storm keeps on twisting  
*******************************************************************  
  
Sitting alone at a table, I sip my coffee though it could be cardboard, and I wouldn't know the difference. Someone sits down across from me, and I look up with guarded eyes. Mr. Feeny looks back at me sadly. He doesn't speak to me, he just sits there. Its what I needed really. My troubled mind was alive with thoughts of Jack and how he could have been helped. Finally Mr. Feeny's hand on my wrist causes me to look up at him.  
"It was a shock to us all Eric, and support isn't as far as you think." With that, he smiled gently, and stood. I watched him go with dead, dull eyes. Yes support was there for me, all I had to do was seek it out. Where was the support for Jack when he was tumbling from grace?  
  
*******************************************************************  
you keep on building the lie  
that you make up for all that you lack  
it don't make no difference  
escaping one last time  
  
*******************************************************************  
Of the pictures I had pushed into the box, I fished two out. The one of Jack and myself, the other for Sean. The picture of his now gone family. He still had us. Cory would never let his best friend fall to far away. Even when things looked their bleakest, Cory never let Shawn spiral to far down. Something was always there to yank him back up. I failed to do that for Jack. Jack failed to spiral up, he started his downward spiral, and was unable to stop himself. He at last, ended up crashing, and took his life. I had given the picture to Sean, who stared at it unseeingly, then stared at me, his eyes clearly portraying the thanks his lips would not readily allow past. I nodded to him and tried to force a smile to my face. If the smile was there, it never reached my eyes, however, it seems most likely, it came out a pained grimace rather than a smile of any sorts. I set the picture on my bed stand, I'll keep it there until I have good reason to move it, and something tells me, I won't.  
  
*******************************************************************  
it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh  
this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees  
*******************************************************************  
  
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and for the others, the pain of his death slowly started to fade. I could not allow the grief to fade with theirs. I've had friends come and go from my life for as long as I was old enough to know what a friend was. I had not however, lost a friend in this manner. I'd never lost a friend to death, never had one die in a car crash, or a horrible accident, let alone have my best friend commit suicide in our bathroom. Even Sean seemed to be able to pull himself out of the pity of despair he'd sunk into. Only I remained toiling in my troubled mind. Feelings of guilt, hurt, and confusion warred with each other often, trying to make themselves the dominate of how I felt that day. People were worried, and I felt a slight resentment towards them. They worried for me, but where were these people to worry for Jack? He had no one to look out for him. People who keep looking at me with empty sympathy, faces masked in warm regret I'm growing accustomed to, how dare they. They know nothing of how I feel. I lost my best friend because I didn't take the time to make sure he was all right. Blaming myself is stupid I can almost hear Feeny in my head. Its true though. Jack is lost, and if I had paid closer attention to him, or if he hadn't been so intent on making sure we didn't know, he could still be with us. I wouldn't feel so alone, and most importantly, he'd know how much he meant to us all.  
  
*******************************************************************  
in the arms of an angel  
fly away from here  
from this dark cold hotel room  
and the endlessness that you fear  
********************************************************************  
  
Slowly, painfully, time goes on, and wounds heal. I slowly began to accept his death, and slowly began to move away from the pain. I doubt he will ever just be a memory to me, as he will always hold a fond place in my heart as the best friend I lost, but I can function again. I will never forget what I lost, and I will never have a friend quite like Jack again, but through his death, I did learn how to grieve. I had feared death, never knowing that I did. I found that death is a dark hole that will drag you into it if you let it. The key is to be stronger. I found my strength after the others, but I found it none the less. The emptiness is still there, and at times I still expect him to yell at me for leaving the shower turned on, but I know in my heart, he's dead. The endless despair I had suffered as lessened and I know that I have learned from him. And I will always be thankful to him, for being my friend.  
  
********************************************************************  
you are pulled from the wreckage  
of your silent reverie  
you're in the arms of the angel  
may you find some comfort there  
********************************************************************  
  
I visit his grave often. Memories of Jack are often bittersweet, and I try and think of the good times. His grave remains free of weeds and other such things, for Sean and I make sure it stays clean, as does Chets. I think Sean may have been here earlier today. I sit now, and let a small smile play around my face, as some of those memories play through my head. With a sigh, I stand, letting the grass fall from my pants. I turn to the stone and study it for a moment or two before I say the same thing I say, every time I leave.  
"Bye buddy, I hope your finally at peace."  
********************************************************************  
  
you're in the arms of the angel  
may you find some comfort here  
  
  
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